


He lives in the Attic

by EnforcerofTyrestsAft (orphan_account)



Series: To keep me busy [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Centipede man Cyclonus, Cyclonus but Cryptid!Cyclonus that lives in your cozy attic, Gen, I was feeling anxious at work so I wrote this down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/EnforcerofTyrestsAft
Summary: Silly Cryptid Cyclonus fluff for me because I was feeling anxious.This was inspired by Shapeofmetal and Rawmeknockouts (both blogs nsfw) talk of Cryptid Cyclonus and his love of sweets. Had to do it.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Reader
Series: To keep me busy [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1197820
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	He lives in the Attic

Thinking back on it now, you really should have done more research on the little cottage you bought when the real estate agent looked downright gleeful when you said you'd buy it. 

The cottage itself was in perfect condition, hell, it looked like the last person who had lived here had left most of their stuff behind, even the tv, and had hit the road as soon as it was sold for a measly 2,000 dollars. That was your second mistake. The first being you didn't notice the way the agent was almost on her hands and knees thanking you for taking the house off her hands.

After waving the almost tearful agent, you had hauled your stuff in, what little of it there was from your car, and finally decided to look around to make sure there was no torture dungeon or meth lab in the basement. Thankfully there was no such thing, but what was the most off-putting was how clean the cottage was. 

From what you managed to scour off of the information of the place on the internet, this place had  _ had  _ 3 separate owners, and those 3 had barely lived in the place for a year. Maybe that was why the cottage still had that new smell to it, if not a bit musty. 

Sighing, you closed the last room, a master bedroom with a bed bigger than you had previously in your old flat, and eyeballed the swinging string that led up to the attic. 

But before you could think of opening it, you remembered the agent almost making you swear not to open it. She almost made you do a blood-pact, if you were being frank. Still….no. You didn't particularly like going back on your word despite wanting to know what was up there, so in your mind you chalked it up to a ghost and decided that it was their room. And it's pretty rude to just burst into someone else's room without asking, and maybe you've been taught not to piss off ghosts in horror movies. 

So the attic was left untouched, and you were hopeful your new 'roommate' didn't mind the sound of Bauhaus and left it at that.

Yeah...maybe you should have paid more attention to why no one wanted this cute little cottage in the middle of nowhere.

At first it was the skittering in the attic that sounded down to the master bedroom while you tried to sleep. It felt like it was bleeding into the back of your neck, down your spine and definitely onto your nerves. The sound made you wince, until after a week or two you got used to it, read  _ forced _ , and managed to sleep through it no matter how loud it got. 

After that, the sound stopped to just a trickle, and that's when you knew you might have messed up; because after that was finding a black centipede under your pillow. You had swallowed a scream quickly, darting off of the bed and landing on your ass with a painful thud. Wincing, you pray that there was only one and decided if the ghost didn't want you in the masters, you'd sleep somewhere else. Thankfully with your limited items, moving to the room across from the masters wasn't too hard and strangely enough, the skittering stopped and you received not a single centipede that night. 

'So the ghost likes a little bit of luxury. Huh.' you thought to yourself as you got ready for work and walked out the door.

After that there wasn't much trouble, living with a ghost. 

They didn't bother you in the shower, no mean ghostly notes on the steamed up mirror after you got out of the bath. There was no trash thrown about, no tripping you when you went down to the basement, and there was nothing just out of the corner of your eye. 

Still, that didn't mean it was too easy.

The ghost detested loud music, preferring either classical or folk. It didn't like the lights on, especially when you were in the living room and the lights suddenly cut. Those were the only times you thought you'd seen something, a hulking black shadow and pricing red eyes looking straight at you as they flicked off your reading light. You never turned your head during those times, which they seemed to approve of. It also seems that they had a thing for sweets. From chocolate to cookies to ice-cream. There wasn't a place in the fridge where you could hide anything, so you'd taken to baking something for them and leaving it just outside the attic door and it was always licked clean in the morning. 

At least they left your ice-cream alone now.

And you thought that would be the end of it, living (relatively) peacefully with a ghost. Even if you had made sure the walls weren't hollow and that there wasn't any secret cubby holes in the house, (there wasn't). Until disaster struck one night. 

The final (and only) straw, if you will. 

You were minding your own damn business getting ready for bed, when you looked at your bed and noticed a very important item missing. You felt your heart leap into your throat. Charles, the green alligator plush you had gotten for yourself for Valentine's day, was missing. If you weren't going to throw hands then, you were now. 

Even if your hands went through the ghost, you would still fight them. 

Marching out of your room and to the attic, you paused in your steps to hear soft music trickling out of the master bedroom, the sound of claws hitting the floor and the bed loudly squeaking. 

Oh, that ghost was in for it now.

Stomping up to the room, you loudly knock before entering. "I can handle you sometimes stealing my ice-cream and books, but Charles is off limits!" You start, only to pause as you take in what was on the bed. 

A centipede. A massive  _ purple _ centipede that was half man half insect. It was what the people in The Human Centipede were probably trying to go for and horribly,  _ horribly, _ failed to do. 

And the Centi-man was kinda hot.  _ Shit, focus. _

The Centi-man was looking at you like you had grown a second head, a half eaten cookie in his mouth and one of your gross romcom books in one of his hands. Charles, sweet Charles, was tightly tucked into his side. Before you could threaten the guy, he took the cookie from his mouth and glared at you. You glared right back. "Usually when you want to enter someone's room, you knock." He says, a slight hiss in his voice and wow, you shouldn't find that kinda hot. 

Huffing, you cross your arms in front of you. "I did, you jerk. Now give Charles back and I'll leave you to it." You reply with the same amount of venom in your tone, that quickly fades off at the Centi-man slowly creeps off of the bed and makes his way over to you. 

And man, is he bigger than you originally thought. His horns do him no favor as he looms over you, but sighed and hands your poor, abused plushie back to you. 

"I did not realize how important he was to you, forgive me." The Centi-man says, voice a little softer than before. And he does look a little apologetic, red eyes, definitely insect like, gentle. You feel like a bit of a jerk now, but you grasp your plushie tightly, before giving a tight smile. "I'm sorry for barging in on you. It's just my boy is pretty important to be." You reply, smile softening a bit. 

The two of you stay like that for a moment, before you stuff the plush under one arm and hold out your hand. "It's nice to finally put a face to my roommate. At least you're not some creepy guy living in the walls." You say, giving your name to him as he simply looks at your outstretched hand and tentatively takes it in his own. "Cyclonus. And it is nice to meet the person who makes me cookies so often. And I do apologise about the ice-cream. It's hard to...control myself around sweet things." 

You smile at that, as you take your hand back and give him a wink.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your reading, Cyclonus. Nice meeting you." You say, only to pause when Cyclonus gives you a smile of his own. It should freak you out a bit, seeing as his cheeks were hollow and you could catch a gleam of possible pinchers inside his mouth, but it's charming in a way. You give him a short wave before exiting his room, closing the door behind you, and make your way to your own. 

Charles sits snugly in your arms, a comfortable feeling, as you close the door behind you and let out the breath you had been holding. 

Your roommate wasn't a ghost. It was a Centipede man. A Centi-man, if you will. And he was hot. Or you hadn't been on a date in so long your brain was making you think he was hot. 

Blowing out a sigh, you gracelessly get into bed and faceplant into your pillow. Another thought for another time, for right now you'd sleep until you had to go to work. With your alligator tucked close, you easily fall asleep with no scratching going on above you. 

At least he likes your baking.

  
  



End file.
